


Stench

by illiterate (mirotopist)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, False Accusations, Insanity, Murder, OC, POV First Person, Triggers, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirotopist/pseuds/illiterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azkaban.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stench

The _stench_ was the first thing that hit me when I arrived. The stench of metallic blood mixed with the piss-stained floors that resulted very close to the smell of death.

Even though the dementors were long gone, their presence still stained the prison, far from disappearing.

The next was the noise. Oh no, it wasn't loud. It was far from that. It was quiet. Deadly _quiet_. There was hardly any sound over the waves eroding against the rocks. This scared me the most. How many people had given up in here? How many have wasted away so much that they couldn't protest or stand the tormentors anymore? But how many, instead of the life sentence, have been given the kiss?

I shivered as the Azkaban guard chained my wrists and feet with shackles embroidered with runes. It was then when I realized, where I was and why I was here. It was then, not at the trial nor when the Aurors broke into my house and charged me for the _murder_ of my son.

My son, oh my sweet boy. He was the light of my life. His father died in the Battle of Hogwarts, an unnamed Auror, one amongst the many. He just turned three last week, he was at the age when you are so innocent, and everything is funny and you were so beautiful, so _pure_ \- but then he disappeared one afternoon when I was doing the laundry. He was there one second, then the next he wasn't. They never found him. So they charged me.

The guard marched me to the place where I'd be staying for the rest of my life, a cell at one of the corners of the triangular structure, the only window being small and covered in moss and salt gathered over the centuries. 

The guard opened the cell then locked it when I entered.

"This is your cell, number B28, your personal charge number is CD285, and that is what you will be known as from now on. Your meals will arrive twice per day, toilet times straight after, your necessities will be provided when you need them, and showers are given once every three months." He read out from a file in monotone.

"The only correspondence you can have with the outside world are monitored and read-over letters, your remaining family, should they wish to see you, are allowed to visit after the set period of five years. We hope you learn from your mistakes, and live better after." 

"W- wait" I stuttered out, my voice sounding _feeble_ and weak even against my own ears. But the guard disapparated without a second delay. 

Then I was alone. All alone. In this cold, silent, and dreary place. All alone.

I'm not sure how long I just sat there on the bed, staring into space. I know I had missed a good amount of meals, as I was starving and parched, but those were the last things on my mind. I've been staring at the window. But with so much grime covering it, you could hardly see. I took a look at my belongings laid out on the bed beside me, there was a bar of Quikklean Soap, a sponge, toothpaste and a toothbrush. I took the sponge and soap then stood to walk over to the window- a feat which almost sent me face down on the ground. The combination of lack of food and immobility must've taken it's toll.

It was also then when I realized there was piss on the bed. Stinking and damp. When I realized I had to go again.

The food that they had- and I realized was left there for the time I was in a daze- was a stale piece of bread and marmalade with a half empty glass of water, not the best, but it'll suffice. I sat down shakily in front of the cell door and spread the marmalade and took a bite.

It was, by far, the most delicious thing that I've ever tasted. But that could've just been the hunger.

I forced myself to eat it slowly and not stuff it all down.

The texture of the bread scraped down my throat, soon followed down with a sip of water. Then repeat. And again.

After I'd finished the food a door to the left of my cell opened up. Leading to a nearly threadbare bathroom containing a squat and a sink. After I'd relieved myself, I turned on the tap to find a murky, yellow liquid that was mostly dirt and rust.

I turned off the tap in _disgust_ , and went on to use the remaining water I had left to dampen the sleeve of my prison outfit to use as a towel.

Deciding that enough was enough, I picked up the cleaning devices from where I left them on the floor and walked- slowly- to the window. I lathered the soap onto the sponge and started working away at the grime. Cleaning took my mind off everything. So I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.

It took a while. 

After around six hundred and ninety-three meals and glasses half empty with water, the cell was clean. I wasn't. 

There, I was left in my _spotless_ cell, with a small window that my life slowly drained out of.

Spick and span.

Left alone.

All Alone.

**Author's Note:**

> So yea. That was that. I hope you enjoyed it. This little fic of mine. I haven't been on Archive for long, I dunno exactly how things work.  
> Cheers.


End file.
